Not Useless Flashbacks
by Der Traumer
Summary: Gawain tries to convince his little sister knight she's not as weak and worthless as she's become convinced she is by reflecting on her earliest days with the knights.


A/N: I will openly admit, this is not one of my best pieces, probably because I wrote it over a period of about three months. It's really long, too, so I tried to get all the typoes, but the longer the fic, the more likely I am to miss a few. So sorry... Also, for whatever reason my syntax and diction seem really blah and immature, at least to me. Lastly there are probably a great deal of inconsistancies between this story and the ACTUAL times this story took place in. I didn't research anything before hand. Much sorries for the guess work here and there. So, I leave you with this advice, please read for plot and character interaction as compared to style and technique. Pretty please :puppy dog eyes: and do make sure to review, please and thank you!

Disclaimer: King Arthur and its characters are in no way mine, they belong to Jerry Bruckheimer I think.

Claimer: Both Felina and the plot of this fic are mine.

Warnings: fluff, violence, mentions of rape, adult themes, adult situations, sensuality, some language, and crude humor-ish sorta

ENJOY!

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**Not Useless Flashbacks**

"Hah, I win again," Felina slid Galahad, Lancelot, and six Romans money toward her.

"Why are you so damned good at this?" Lancelot asked, "And what do you have in that hand that was so good we all folded?"

"A pair of twos and an ace high," she answered with a coy grin.

"I hate you," Galahad said affectionately.

"I'm sure you do," she responded running her hand down his cheek.

"Get a room or deal," Lancelot ordered nudging her.

"You just wish it was you, not Galahad," she said fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Shuddup." He punched her shoulder as he would one of his brother knights. She was his sister knight after all.

She unfolded her hand, eyes brightened. Lancelot knew that look. Sister knight would not be bluffing this hand. "I fold," he said without looking at his cards, much to the confusion of the Romans who were playing.

Galahad looked at Lancelot, who in turn looked at Felina. Galahad locked eyes with her and folded as well. He only had two pair anyway.

The Roman across the table tossed in two gold coins, and the one sitting next to him matched him.

"Betting big are we?" Felina said amiably and tossed in her two gold and an extra silver one.

"Big talk, bitch, but no cards. You at least have a pair of fours this time?" he asked, matching her and raising her another gold coin.

When he looked up, Lancelot's dagger was at his throat. "Take care how you address Lady Felina."

The Roman gulped. He had heard about the legendary loyalty of the Sarmation knights but had a hard time believing it carried through to the lady knight.

Felina was looking smugly at her cards, but she was twirling her dagger in her other hand. "Thank you, Lancelot. You saved me from going to the gallows for gutting disrespectful Romans yet again." She tossed in two gold coins.

The guard looked down at the hefty amount of money on the table, then looked at his dwindling stack of gold coins. He curled his lip at her in a snarl and tossed in a matching gold coin. "I see you," he paused, "You and your pair of fours, wench," he added scornfully, glaring at Lancelot daringly.

"I told you…" Lancelot drew his dagger.

"Ah, let it be, Lance," Felina interrupted, laying her hand on the table. "He'll be losing enough tonight, no need to take his balls, too." She thought a moment her hand still covering her cards. "That is, assuming you have any," she snickered, avenging herself.

"Quit yapping," the Roman snapped, betraying his impatience with the girl, then immediately calmed, "and show me your fours."

Felina lifted her hand to reveal her cards. Four aces lay next to a queen of spades.

The Roman glared a moment, then threw his cards down and stormed off angrily, followed more slowly by his companions. "Cheating bitch," he snarled just loud enough for the three at the table to hear.

Well, them and a certain scout who had been watching the game with interest. A knife embedded itself in the wall a mere inches from the Roman's nose. "I believe Lancelot told you to watch how you refer to the lady," Tristran warned.

Felina flushed and slid her coins into a pouch. She stood, "I never asked you to do this for me, defend my dignity like that. I can defend myself."

"We know," Galahad clapped her on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion, "But we're not burying any more Romans for you, and we wouldn't want them to tack more years onto your service.

"Still, I'll be fine. I can take care of myself." She made her way toward the exit.

"Where are you going?" Lancelot asked.

"Out," came the answer. The knights were accustomed to this, Felina's mood swings. She didn't like to be protected. She could take care of herself. She didn't need help. She was a knight.

She stood, staring up at the stars, letting the rain pour down on her and drench her clothes.

"Where are your protectors, Lady Felina?" sneered someone from behind her.

Felina spun to face the six men, now blocking her escape unless she wanted to make a mad dash for the woods.

"I don't need protectors," she answered reaching for a knife at her waist. Her fingers were numb from the rain and she was slow undoing the catch. By the time she had drawn the knife he was inches from her.

He grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

Felina struggled, but would not cry out.

"Come on, gorgeous," he whispered, "Aren't you going scream for your precious knights?"

"I don't need them," she grunted, even as the pressure on her wrist increased so much that her knife fell into the mud. "I'm not scared of you." She thrust her knee up into his groin.

He cursed and stumbled back.

Felina made a dive for her knife, but a boot tip caught her in the ribs and sent her sprawling into the mud. She gagged, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and looked up at the assailant.

Her eyes widened. He looked too much like the man that had raped her years ago. She froze, memories eating at her, and couldn't fight back.

A hawk cried out overhead.

The hawk recognized the figure on the ground and knew the scent of fear coming off it. She had snuck her treats when her master wasn't looking and her master called her "sister knight" and "little one." Her master would be angry when he learned his little one was afraid.

Tristran's hawk dove into the tavern, landing on the table in front of him, squawking at him. It took him a moment to recognize the pattern of behavior. He looked around the tavern. "Lina," he realized and stood, knocking his chair over, catching the attention of the other knights. "Lina's in trouble," he said, making his way toward the exit.

"Gawain, is some silly girl really going to drag you away from me?" the wench in his lap asked.

He dumped her unceremoniously on the floor when she wouldn't move. "Yes," he answered bluntly.

She glared at him in a way that said "your loss," and shuffled away.

"Now, I believe you owe this man an apology," the officer dragged her to her feet by her hair.

She looked down at the man who was still rolling around on the ground holding his groin. She spit on him. "Not sorry."

"You bitch!" he raised his hand to hit her, but an arrow lodged itself through his palm before he could. He dropped her to nurse his injured his limb.

Six Sarmation knights made their way toward the seven Romans. As the two groups met, a Roman officer who did not know Felina was a knight stepped forward. "Get your own wench, pagans," he growled as though pointing out their godlessness was an insult.

"This is no wench," Gawain walked around the group standing over Felina. She was curled around her stomach, soaked and covered in mud. She was hurt and probably sick by now. "Lina?" he gently cooed the pet name and reached out to brush mud soaked strands of hair from her face.

Her eyes opened. "Gawain?" she coughed, sputtering blood.

Gawain struggled to withhold his rage and lifted Felina to him, carrying the five-foot warrior with ease. She snuggled close to him.

The knights noticed the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth and their glares darkened. There was tense silence as no one moved for a moment and then the Sarmations turned back toward the tavern.

Bors hit and knocked out the nearest Roman on his way by.

Tristran wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and reached and brushed frustrated tears from her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she answered without coughing.

He took her chin and turned her head from side to side checking for injuries. Finding none, his face contorted with worry. "Where is the blood coming from, Lina?"

She shrugged even though she knew it was from where she was kicked.

Tristran reached and carefully searched her ribs. He came to the last one on the right and she screamed as he barely brushed it.

Her cry caught the other knights' attention.

Tristran looked down at her. "He kicked you, didn't he?"

Felina was gritting her teeth desperately against tears that were threatening to flood from her eyes. "Yes," she barely breathed.

"Why that bastard, I'll have his head, his balls, and…"

"No!" Felina blurted, "I mean I can "repay" the bastard by myself, but thank you Bors."

Gawain knew her best of the knights and realized that there was something wrong with his sister/lover knight.

Gawain and Tristran made their way into Felina's quarters. Gawain placed her on the bed and she carefully pulled her tunic over her head, but the left the binding around her breasts.

A large purpling bruise spread from the binding to above her right hip.

"Are you sure we can't let Bors cut his dick off? Since it was his dick that made him do this to you?" Tristran asked, wincing as he examined the injury. The bandage was beside him.

He reached out and touched where the broken rib protruded slightly from the rest of her ribcage. He could easily visualize the way the officer's boot must have caught her just under her ribs to break the bone outwards like it was. Felina hissed when he pushed a little too hard. "Are you sure _I _can't cut his dick off? Bastard really got you good. He should rot for kicking a woman."

"Damn right," Gawain agreed from where he stood behind Tristran.

"Gawain, I think I can set it if you would…"

Felina was turning green where she sat on the bed. Gawain climbed on the bed behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and buried her face in his hair.

Tristran as painlessly as possible pushed the rib back into place.

Felina screamed into Gawain's neck, and he reached up with one hand and caressed her sweat soaked cheek.

"There," Tristran sat back on his heels. "You're going to be okay, but don't let this one," he pointed to Gawain, "or any of the other knights seduce you into bed, or you'll unset it."

Felina's face was still pressed against Gawain, and she was breathing too heavily to answer, but Gawain squeezed her a little harder and grinned at Tristran as though to say, "I'll keep her out of trouble."

"You too, Gawain," he reminded the younger knight with a glare.

"Yeah, yeah, now leave us alone."

"Gawain."

One word, but Gawain knew his meaning. If he did not solemnly swear he had no intention of sleeping with the little knight, Tristran would leave with her and keep her in his room, claiming he had more self-control than the other knights did. Gawain rethought that; Tristran did have more self-control than the other knights did. "I'm not gonna sleep with her, Tristan, just make sure she's not rescarred."

Tristran liked this answer and so made his way out of Felina's room.

"I'm not scarred," came the half-asleep answer from his lap.

"I didn't figure you were, but Tristran was going to need to hear something more than 'I'm not going to sleep with her.'"

"Oh," Felina's eyes were drooping closed, and she'd reached up to hang on Gawain's arm.

"Well, you may not be scarred, but you are covered in mud. We should really get you cleaned up before I let you go to sleep."

"I loaned my soaps to Vanora, I'll wash when she gives them back."

"No," Gawain slipped an arm under her knees and lifted her up, "You are going to wash now, and then we are going to talk. There's something wrong with you."

"I'm fine," was the rushed reply.

"Not necessarily about today."

Felina was confused, but resigned herself to Gawain's care as he dropped her on his bed so he could light a lamp.

"Gawain?"

He paused his rummaging through the packs so he could listen. "Yeah?"

"Does it ever bother you and the knights when you have to stick up for me?"

Gawain smiled. He didn't even need to ask what was wrong now. "No, you're our sister knight."

"You all just mutually agree that I'm too weak to take care of myself?" There was question to it, though she had intended it to be a statement.

This was not what he had wanted to hear.

"No." He sat his canteen, the soap, and the cloth next to her. "We mutually agree that you're nineteen, five foot, and ninety-eight pounds as well as impulsive and short tempered." He made sure to leave out woman. He wiped the mud from half her face before she snatched the cloth from him and washed it herself.

"So, because I'm small and young?"

The way she said it made it sound derogatory, though he couldn't deny it.

She downcast her eyes as she washed off her arms.

Gawain watched her, worried, trying to decide what was the right thing to tell her at this point. He turned and yanked a pair of breeches and a shirt from his pack, and when he turned back to her there were tears dripping from her eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey," he dropped the clothing beside her. And wrapped his arms around her. "What's this about?"

She pushed at him until he let go, protesting that she was fine. "I'm okay," she barely choked out, tears still running from her eyes.

Gawain allowed the still crying female to yank his much too big tunic over her head and change into his breeches before surprising her by wrapping an arm about her shoulders and the other about her waist. He fell sideways on the bed, trapping the teen against his chest.

"Gawain!"

"Hmm?" he looked down at her.

She tilted her head back to look at him. "Let me go," she ordered evenly, even though her eyes and nose were still swollen with tears.

"No," he answered, "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong, Gawain, I'm fine!" she answered, making a weak struggle against him.

He didn't even tighten his arms, knowing his hand and a half taller, two hand widths broader, and seventy-five pounds heavier gave him a significant advantage over the teen.

She struggled a little longer before holding still. "I hate you," she grumbled.

"Well, you're going to have to spend a lot of time with me if you don't tell me what's the matter."

She sighed and backed herself closer to him.

Feeling this tiny act of compliance, he flipped her over so she was facing him.

Another sigh, this one less dejected and more relaxed as his arms wrapped around her and his fingers stroked around her shoulder blades. "There you go, love," he breathed gently, pressing his lips against her cheek.

She was practically purring when he stopped. "Now, what's wrong?"

She humphed. "Dammit."

Gawain grinned. "No, I didn't forget. Now what's wrong?"

"I can't do anything on my own except get into trouble, and then I always need help getting out."

Gawain was staring dumbly at the sudden bluntness with which she had answered, not to mention the blatant untruth of the statement.

"I'm…"

Gawain pressed a finger to her lips. "Whatever it is, don't say it. It can't be true."

"But it is," she said around his finger. "I can't protect myself, and I'm always distracting or getting in the way of you and the other knights."

"I can't believe you, the high and mighty knight Felina who isn't scared of anything, now thinks she's useless."

"Well," she said sitting up a little in his arms, "Name one thing I've done by myself, without you and the other knights to back me."

"Other than countless battles where you beheaded, stabbed or otherwise mutilated Woads?" he raised an eyebrow at her. Maybe she didn't realize how great a feat it was that she, a young woman, had been fighting Briton for almost five years and had suffered no serious injuries. In fact some of her worst, like her current broken rib, had been dealt by gangs of Romans with poor intentions.

"Yeah," she seemed to thinking about that statement, "Other than those."

"How about when we first met?'

"You…"

"No, as I recall you did most of the work that time." He reached down and traced a scar on his upper thigh through his breeches. "I seem to think you weren't aiming for my leg when you did that."

Felina flushed. "No, I don't believe I was."

_Flashback…_

Felina was finally working again at the tavern. She's spent a week in bed, Vanora's orders, after a Roman pig raped and tried to beat her to death. She still had the traces of a black eye, and she favored her left ankle, but otherwise she was fine.

What Vanora didn't know was that a kind man, definitely not Roman, had given her a set of throwing knives and taught her how to use them while she was supposed to be bedridden. He had had strange black marks on his face, Felina recalled, and had said he'd heard about her from Vanora's lover.

She hadn't seen the man since, and was searching the tavern so she could thank him, but he didn't seem to be around.

She went back to the kitchen to pick up another round of drinks, but as she re-entered the tavern, a large man with a beard stopped her in the doorway.

"Look who's back. Me 'n me boys have been missin' you, lady."

Her eyes widened in recognition, and she dropped the tray and made a dash back toward the kitchen.

She heard a curse followed by several more sets of feet.

"Dammit," she hissed and reached beneath the vest she wore over her dress and unlatched a knife. She spun around, holding her eyes open just long enough to take aim. "Please don't miss," she hurled the knife at him with a flick of her wrist, just as she had been taught.

"Holy shit."

Felina opened her eyes. Blood was everywhere, and her knife was embedded in man's throat. The bearded man looked down at his partner and spat. "Figures he'd die at the hands of a woman." He looked back at her. "However, you just killed a Roman soldier, missy, and that's punishable by death, but first…" He stepped toward her, his remaining cronies close behind him.

She reached for her other knife, but the large man grabbed her wrist before she could get to it. Holding her wrists in one hand, he reached to take the dagger.

Felina screamed as loudly and shrilly as she could, alerting the tavern to what was going on. Her cry for help was cut short by a blow to the head that sent her sprawling.

"Bitch," he hissed, stalking back toward her.

"It's too late," she gasped, spitting blood from a split lip. "They already know what's going on."

A scream made everyone in the tavern freeze.

Vanora searched for Lina, and she found that she wasn't there; neither, her stomach churned, were the Roman pigs who had raped her the first time.

"Bors!" she found her Sarmation lover. "Lina's not here, and neither are the pigs that hurt her the first time."

He chugged the rest of his ale. "Where'd the scream come from?"

She pointed to the door to the hallway that joined the tavern to the kitchen.

"Alrighty then boys, let's go kick some Roman asses," he cracked his knuckles as five other Sarmations stood to join him.

Beard had reacquired her wrists and was holding her still as another man reached for her breasts. A blow to the side of his head caused him to drop her.

Felina clawed at the Roman atop her, kicking and striking out at him.

Gawain grabbed the back of his tunic. "My turn, love," he said, sarcastically referring to the beating he was going deliver the Roman.

The panicked figure against the wall misinterpreted this and unlatched a second knife.

Tristran was examining the body on the ground. "Nice shot, love," he murmured, yanking the knife from where it was embedded in the man's jugular. He looked around to see where the other knife was implanted, but after searching the hallway, he found it nowhere. With whatever had happened, she must not have gotten a chance to use it.

Tristran looked up and saw Gawain moving toward her, the look on her face a mix between terror and rage. She didn't realize Gawain was a friend.

"Gawain watch out!" the blonde knight turned toward his companion right as Felina drew the knife.

Tristran immediately regretted distracting his friend.

From her position on the floor it would not have been reasonable for Felina to slit his throat, but she could easily remove what, in her mind, had gotten her into this mess. He was close enough that she didn't need to throw it, so she made to stab him, but he turned right before the blade made contact with its intended destination, and it sunk into his upper thigh.

"Ouch," Gawain gulped out and fell to a sitting position.

Felina was studying him closely, confused look on her face. This one was no howling and cursing and trying to hit her. He was just sitting, eyes closed, leaning against the opposite wall, hand on the hilt of her knife. He inhaled sharply, then yanked it out. He wiped it on his pant leg and handed it back to her.

She looked at him closely, distrust apparent in her eyes.

"Go ahead, take it, I'm not going to hurt you."

Her eyes widened and she slowly took it back. "I'm…

He cut her off. "Don't worry about it, I'm not mad. I'm feeling kind of stupid about that 'my turn' crack. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh," she was staring at her hands, which were holding her crossed ankles.

"Knights!"

Everyone's gaze snapped toward the door. Arthur stood there, furious look on his face.

Bors immediately dropped the Roman he had lifted by the collar.

"What's going on here?" Arthur demanded.

"Well, you see, sir, Vanora told me her newest worker was in trouble because these here Romans wanted to," he coughed to indicate his meaning. "So, we came to save her."

"It required six of you to save one girl from," he paused to count, "five Romans?"

"Six, sir," Galahad corrected, pointing to the corpse on the ground.

"Galahad!" Lancelot snarled at the younger knight.

"That one doesn't count," Bors interjected, "'E was dead 'fore we got here."

"Then how did he die?" Arthur asked incredulously.

"Uh…that was my doing, Sir Arthur, milord," Felina stepped forward, slipping the knife Gawain had returned to her back into its sheath.

Tristran came up to beside her and handed her the other knife, which she promptly replaced as well.

"And I will take whatever consequence his death calls for." Her tone revealed scorn toward the dead man on the floor.

"Except the consequence for killing one of these pigs is death," Lancelot stated, kicking the corpse.

"Or join the military," Galahad chimed in.

"Yeah, that would be great if she were a man," Lancelot replied.

"Not necessarily," Tristran stepped forward. "She's got pretty good aim with those knives."

A Roman officer arrived then, saw his dead soldier, and whirled on Arthur. "Which of your savages did this?"

Felina seethed at the way he addressed the men who had saved her. "I killed him, because your 'honored' soldiers decided to stoop to rape."

The officer looked like he was going to deny this, when Tristran made his way to Arthur. One of Gawain's arms was draped over his shoulder, the other over Dagonet's. "We need to tend to Gawain, leave Lancelot and the girl to settle this."

Arthur wasn't sure he liked this, but Lancelot's cocky grin of reassurance said that the younger knight thought he could handle it.

The officer waited until everyone had left and it was just he, the girl, Lancelot, and the corpse before he drew his sword to strike her down.

Lancelot stepped in front of her.

"Move boy."

He shook his head. "This girl killed your man in self-defense, she should be set free."

"She must be punished, and death is the only way to punish death. Well, that, or servitude." A predatory grin spread across his face.

Lancelot grimaced and reached back and took Felina's hand to reassure her that he wasn't going to let this Roman pig have his way with her.

"Yes, servitude to Rome in the military."

"Yes, I think we could find a place for her in the military." The officer licked his lips.

If anything, Lancelot's grimace deepened. Death almost seemed better than what this man offered. He wanted to look back and see if she realized how much danger she was in. An idea struck him before he needed to. "She gets to pick her company. That Roman pig got her into this mess; it was partially his fault. She should go free, but she's willing to fight for Rome in his place, but she gets to choose her company." He glared at the officer. "And if that's not good enough for you, we can take it straight to the pope, and between you and Arthur, guess who will win?"

Lancelot was quite proud of the imposing figure he presented.

The Roman snorted and stomped out. "Fine."

He turned to the girl, who immediately flung her arms around his waist. "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. I'll do whatever you want to repay you."

"Don't thank me yet," he said pushing her at arms length. "We still have to find you a company." He thought a moment. "Do you have an older brother in the service?"

She shook her head. "Can't I just come with you?"

Lancelot mentally kicked himself. She couldn't be any safer than if she were with them. Maybe the rest of the knights weren't that respectable, but Arthur was.

"You have to ask Arthur, but it sounds fine to me."

Lancelot knocked on the door to Gawain's room. "Arthur, there's someone who wants to see you," he called.

Arthur nearly groaned, certain it was another Roman officer and that Lancelot had bungled helping the girl.

Much to his surprise, it was the girl who entered. "Milord," she bowed politely. "My name is Felina, and if I may, I have request for you." Her head remained politely bowed.

"Ask it, and look at me when you talk."

"Oh." Her eyes flew up to meet his. "Sir, Arthur, I humbly request that in punishment for killing a Roman, I take his place among your ranks." Her head started to bow again, and he looked over her at Lancelot, who nodded.

"You may."

The look of gratitude in her eyes was worth more than a thousand words. "Thank you, milord." She started to leave.

"You're not leaving already are you?"

For the first time, Felina noticed the figure on the bed. She made her way toward him. She looked down and recognized the man she had stabbed. He reached up, his fingers tracing the new black eye she knew she had. She flinched back.

"I won't hurt you," he assured, "I know what black eyes dealt by Roman's feel like." He grinned at her.

She managed a tentative grin back.

It was chemistry from there.

_End flashback…_

"But Lancelot and Tristran did most of the work then," she protested.

"But _you_ killed the Roman," Gawain corrected.

"I killed _one _Roman, and it took Bors, Dagonet, Lancelot, and Galahad to protect me from the rest."

Gawain did not point out that he had done more than get stabbed during that brawl. "They would have done the same for any woman."

"So because I'm a woman, you agree that I can't take care of myself and need to be protected."

Gawain grinned and pressed his forehead and nose against Felina's. "You're making this difficult."

"No, I'm making it logical." She brushed her lips chastely against Gawain's, taking advantage of their closeness.

"Alright, maybe this will make you feel better. If it were _any _of the knights in your position, we would have done the same thing."

Felina stared at him blankly before surrendering to her laughter.

"Yes, I'm glad you think thee idea of me or one of the other knights being raped is funny," he rolled his eyes.

"No, no, it's not that. It's just that you're all so big and…masculine, I can't see the Romans wanting to…" suddenly she stopped and her nose wrinkled up at an idea she'd conjured up. Gawain had a feeling he didn't want to know.

"Well, except maybe Galahad, because he's always wearing that skirt."

The way she said it made it sound so innocent, even though she knew every perversion the statement entailed, and Gawain had to laugh as well.

"But Galahad's skirt seems to catch the ladies' attention rather well." He paused as though thinking. "In fact, I believe a certain fifteen-year-old found it very attractive at least once."

Felina played dumb. "I've slept with Galahad more than once."

"You know what I'm talking about." He laughed and affectionately ruffled her hair.

_Flashback…_

"It's not a skirt, dammit," Galahad snarled at Bors.

"Then what is it, pretty boy," Bors asked.

Felina, having no interest in this argument, kicked her horse to catch up with Tristran. "Are they always like this?" she asked.

Tristran seemed to think about this. "Only when they're awake," he answered. "They enjoy getting a rise out of him." He glanced back at Galahad. "Probably because he's the youngest."

Felina didn't have any time to reply as a flustered Galahad galloped in between her and Tristran, muttering something about kilts and stupid bastards.

Curios, she kicked her horse into pace with his. "What's 'a matter?" she asked.

"Stupid asses don't know the difference between a kilt and a skirt," he murmured.

"No, they just want you to get all bent up over it."

"Bastards all the more for it."

Felina thought a moment, then slid her hand onto his knee which was visible below the hem of the kilt. "Well, I think it's a very nice kilt." She slid her hand further beneath it. "A very very nice kilt." She leaned toward and brushed her lips against his ear.

Galahad was tense on his horse, the other knights noted with amusement.

"Meet me somewhere when we make camp?" she asked, tracing his lips with her fingertips.

He managed a nod, and she kissed his cheek before nudging her horse back to Tristran.

"Well, if that wasn't obvious then I don't know what would have been," he stated mildly, without looking away from the road in front of him.

"Just making friends," she replied with a grin that stretched from one ear to the other.

xxx

Galahad and Felina returned to camp, straightening their clothes, right as the other knights were done setting it up.

"So," Bors came up to them, "If I wore a skirt, would you come to my bed?"

Felina's face contorted in a look of utter disgust at the idea of Bors in a kilt, then resumed its serious expression. "No, I would not. Firstly, because I would not be able to keep from gagging."

The knights close enough to hear snickered, but immediately stopped when Bors glared at them.

"Secondly, you have lover, with whom you have had children. You must remain faithful to her." She poked his chest to emphasize the "you."

Bors stared dumbly down at the fifteen-year-old who had just slept with a knight four years her senior who was lecturing _him_ on morals.

_End flashback…_

"See, you seduced Galahad and outwitted Bors all by yourself," Gawain pointed out. He wouldn't say anything about her lecturing Bors on fidelity and then sleeping with Galahad, Tristran, and Lancelot, after she had decided she was Gawain's lover.

"A fish could seduce Galahad, and outwitting Bors? What wits did Bors have to begin with?"

"You know both would be greatly offended by those statements," Gawain reprimanded, even as he grinned at their accuracy.

"That's beside the point."

They sat in silence for a while, just lovingly snuggled against each other.

"I know what you did all by yourself. In your first battle you knifed those archer Woads out of the trees before Tristran even noticed they were there."

"And then panicked because I was out of weapons."

Gawain sighed.

_Flashback…_

Felina had squeezed her horse in between those of Gawain and Tristran and was scanning the trees around them. She was watching Tristran even closer than she was watching the trees. Even the slightest move to his bow and her hand was on the handle of her knife.

Movement. Something had moved in the trees ahead of them. Blue. It was a blue painted figure, she realized. Bors had been telling her horror stories about the blue skinned Woads. She hadn't believed him at first when he'd told her they were blue, but this Woad sure appeared to be. It locked eyes with her, as though daring her to alert her companions of its presence.

She wouldn't. In one fluid motion she'd unlatched and let her knife fly at the Woad, where it buried itself to the hilt in its eye.

Tristran spun to look at her as he drew and cocked his bow. Behind him another archer was taking aim…at Tristran. Felina's other knife was out and in its throat, narrowly missing Tristran's ear.

That was when everything became chaos.

Woads burst forth from the woods, hooting and chanting battle cries.

Felina's eyes widened in horror seeing their numbers.

An arrow made its way toward her and she ducked it, so it missed her head, but embedded itself in her horse's flank instead. The horse cried out and reared up, throwing its unsuspecting rider to the ground.

Tristran saw her fall and cursed, then cursed again when he saw the Woad that was running, sword drawn, toward her.

A well-aimed arrow took care of the Woad as Tristran picked his way on horseback to the girl. "Where's your sword?" He offered her his hand.

"Never got one, and if I did, I wouldn't know how to use it. My weapons are in Woad corpses."

Tristran cursed again at he and the knights' carelessness and hoisted her up onto his horse in front of him. She pressed her face into his shoulder. Tristran looked down at the terrified figure and put a protective arm around her. "You're okay, kid," he said gently, even as he knocked Woads from the trees with his bow.

A snarl at his left leg drew his attention from the trees, but by the time he had registered that it was a Woad, Felina had taken the knife he wore at his thigh and implanted it through its throat.

Her face contorted with horror watching the warrior writhe on the ground, blood pooling beneath it and bubbling from its mouth.

Tristran felt her shudder and wheeled his horse around to crush its skull and to keep the dying eyes from forever haunting his charge. Although it was probably too late for that.

"That's what war is, little one," he told her, and she nodded against his chest.

That's how she spent the rest of the battle, curled against Tristran, face pressed against the leather armor covering his chest, shuddering violently whenever a cry of the dying was loud enough for her to hear. Tristran wondered absently as he picked Woads from the trees how she would survive.

The Woads slowly retreated back into the woods, allowing the fight to draw to a close.

When everything was silent, but for the quiet clink of knights sheathing weapons, Felina slowly sat up from where she'd curled against Tristran, and studied the battlefield.

"I wouldn't look if I were you," Tristran warned uselessly.

Felina's were widening in horror as she scanned the path, now littered with mutilated bodies. She could now hear the groans of the dying, fatally wounded but not yet dead.

She gagged and suddenly leaned over the horse and vomited violently. Tristran had been expecting this, and held one arm around her waist to keep her on the horse, and with his free hand he held her hair back from her face. She gagged and wretched until Tristran was sure she would lose her stomach all together and not just its contents, then suddenly fell forward, unconscious. He caught her shoulders as well to keep her from toppling off the horse. He yanked her back and held her to his chest.

"Is she okay?" Gawain asked.

The unconscious figure wrapped her arms around Tristran's waist in her sleep, whimpering softly.

"No, not really," Tristran answered truthfully.

"You think she's going to make it?"

"Today? Yes." Tristran gave the girl a small, sad smile. "Her whole service? Not in a million years."

Gawain looked sadly at the girl, fading black eye still marring her features.

xxx

Felina awoke, cold and shivering, not in a bed, but on the ground. She groaned, then suddenly the unexpectedness of her surroundings set in. She flung herself into an upright position, searching the pitch-blackness for something familiar. "Tristran!" she called the only name she could think of.

"He's not here," someone beside her groaned in response.

Felina's surroundings hadn't registered to her yet, and she still wasn't sure if she was safe. "Where is he?" she asked, her voice starting to break.

The half-asleep figure beside her groaned again. "He's scouting, like he always does, go back to sleep." Gawain was supposed to be watching Felina while Tristran was gone, but in his current barely awake state, he'd forgotten his duty.

"Where'd he go?"

Gawain absently tossed his arm in the general direction he had gone. "Go to sleep."

"I can't. I'm cold. And scared. I'm going to find Tristran."

Gawain was vaguely aware of the sound of someone standing up near him. "Oh, okay." Suddenly his half-awake mind realized that his charge leaving in the middle of the night was bad. He untangled himself from his sleeping furs and launched himself at the girl, sending them both sprawling; she with a terrified yelp.

He'd scared her again, he realized. Well, at least she didn't have her knives this time. He had retrieved them for her, but because she hadn't been awake, he couldn't return them. He sighed and started to get up to calm her; because she was unarmed, there was no reason to worry.

So he thought until a foot connected with his nose.

"You stupid Woad, I'll have you know I cut the balls off the last man that tried to rape me!" she snarled.

"No," Gawain replied, rubbing his soar nose to make sure it was neither bleeding nor broken, "You missed and stabbed him in the thigh, much to his relief."

There was a gasp from the general direction of Felina as she recognized him. "Shit, Gawain, I'm so sorry. It's not broken is it?" She was crawling toward him on all fours. "It was so dark, I couldn't…" She was cut short by a thump as her head bumped his, and her hand landed not on the grass, but on his knee. She hadn't realized she was as close as she was in the dark.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she made to back away from him, but an arm tossed casually over her shoulders forced her to remain where she was, forehead pressed against Gawain's.

"You're not leaving already, are you?" he asked with a grin and pressed his mouth against hers.

At first, all she could feel was shock, but as a warm hand caressed her face and fisted in her hair, her eyes drifted closed and her hands glided up Gawain's chest to his shoulders.

Suddenly, he flipped her to the ground, tongue now searching her mouth, hands searching her face and tangling in her hair.

Gasping for air, they broke away from each other.

"By the way," Gawain gasped, "I have your knives."

"Do you plan to do anything with them?"

"Wha…?" He realized what she meant. "Do you want me to?"

She laughed, kissed him, and shook her head.

xxx

Felina awoke to the feeling that someone was staring at her and groaned.

Gawain tightened his arms around her.

"So'd'ya sleep wi' him?" Bors asked.

Felina groaned again. "Gawain. Knife. Now."

"Am I that bad in bed?" he nuzzled her throat.

"No, I'm going to slit Bors throat for waking me up."

"Ya can go back ta sleep in a minute. Did'ya sleep with him?"

Bors' face was still barely inches from Felina's and she was anxious to have it moved. "What the hell does it look like?"

Bors hopped up. "Hah! Told you Gawain would get her before you! Pay up, Lancelot!" he declared triumphantly.

"I take that back. I need both knives. I need to slit two throats," Felina grumbled.

"That's assuming I'm going to let you up."

_End flashback…_

"But I really didn't do anything that time. You and Tristran did," she argued. "Hell, I got sick and passed out right after the battle finished." She snorted and crossed her arms over his chest awkwardly from her place in his arms.

"Getting sick after battles… That's not weakness. That's humanity."

"But you didn't…"

"Not anymore. You can ask Tristran, who helped me deal with this mess," he indicated his long blonde hair, "While I vomited after every fight for my first year in service."

Felina was staring at him in shock. She had stopped after the first two months.

"Convinced you're not useless yet?"

She thought a moment. "No."

Gawain groaned exaggeratedly. "You're just enjoying this aren't you?"

"No." The look on her face made him think she was lying, but he was comfortable with his lover curled in his arms, so he'd let her have her way.

"How about when you taught yourself to use a sword and crossbow."

"I didn't," she protested, "Tristran did."

"But you made it come about, remember?"

Felina's brow knit in confusion.

"Where the hell is my other sword?" Gawain did the perfect imitation of Lancelot.

_Flashback…_

It was dark and Felina's torch was barely bright enough to see by. "I need something that won't be gone once I use it," she muttered as she examined the knights' assortment of weaponry. Gawain's throwing axes were useless. She admired Tristran's collection of bows with awe, but realized they were the same concept as her knives and the arrows would run out. She tried to lift Dagonet's club and Bors' ax, but with both hands she could barely lift them off the ground. This left the knights' collection of swords. Again, Bors' and Dagonet's were much too heavy. Out of respect she would not touch Arthur's Excalibur. Tristran's long sword with its curved tip was appealing, but it was just long enough to be awkward. Gawain's sword was much shorter, but it was heavier, almost club-like in maneuverability. She doubted she would feel safe with a weapon that short. This left her with Lancelot and Galahad's weapons. Galahad's sword was too much like a broadsword for her liking. She wouldn't be able to wield it with only one hand if necessary. Her eyes landed on Lancelot's two swords. "Huh… Wonder why he needs two," she mused, "and they look exactly the same. Maybe it's in case one breaks." She lifted one, absently passing from one hand to the other. It was lighter and shorter than the broadswords, but longer than Gawain's club. It seemed perfect for someone her size, so she marched off into the woods to practice with it, torch in one hand, Lancelot's sword held ready in the other.

Tristran was on watch up in a tree and he nearly shot at the torch making its way through the woods when he realized the bearer was barely five feet tall and carried a sword that looked vaguely familiar. He squinted in the dark and realized it was Felina and that in her hand was one of Lancelot's swords.

(A/N: Wonder what his reaction would have been if she'd've taken his sword)

He searched her for the other sword and realized she hadn't brought it. He smiled. His little sister knight probably didn't realize the two were a set. Curious to see what Felina planned to do with one of Lancelot's swords, he silently followed her to a clearing in the woods.

First she made a fire bright enough to see by, but not big enough to be detected.

Tristran moved back from where he was so she couldn't see him.

Suddenly she struck out at the nearest tree, swinging the sword viciously, sending bark flying.

For several moments all Tristran heard were grunts of exertion and the thwack of metal hitting old wood. Then she would pause and proceed to violently beat another tree until she was exhausted. When she was done carving up trees, she stopped and closed her eyes.

Tristran shifted in the tree to watch this strange display. Startlingly fast, she flung the blade out to the left, then stabbed out in front of her. She continued this dance until her sword met with the trunk of a tree and startled her out of her imaginary battle and back into reality.

She had fast reflexes, Tristran decided, and was far from totally inept with Lancelot's sword.

xxx

"Where the hell is my other sword?" Lancelot snarled as they woke and were packing up camp. "Which one of you bastards thought it would be funny to take my sword?"

Tristran glanced absently at where Felina's sleeping furs lay not yet packed. The girl hadn't come back yet. He was about to worry when she came, yawning, back into camp. Lucky for Felina, most of the knights were too busy watching Lancelot upbraid Bors to notice her entrance with the sword in question.

"What's the matter with him?" she asked.

"Something about a missing sword," Tristan told her without looking up from where he was inspecting arrows and sliding them away. He glanced over at her to see she was folding her sleeping furs nonchalantly.

"Oh."

Shaking his head, Gawain made his way over to them. "Those two might as well be five."

Tristran grunted in agreement, and Felina nodded.

Gawain noticed the two swords where Lancelot had claimed there was only one. "Hey, Lancelot, your swords right there."

Lancelot was about to hit Bors, but he looked over when Gawain spoke. His sword – now swords – was lying on top of his packs.

xxx

As they set up camp again that night, Lancelot placed his swords beneath his sleeping furs.

Tristran heard Felina's sigh of disappointment from beside him. There would be no midnight practice runs tonight. …Or at least not with Lancelot's sword. Tristran had a plan to lure the weapons thief back into the woods.

At dusk, Tristran took his heavier crossbow with him on his watch, making sure to leave the lighter one with a quiver of bolts in plain view.

"Don't you usually take your lighter one scouting?" Arthur asked as Tristran was leaving.

"Not when I'm trying to catch ninety-eight pound weapon's thieves," he answered, cocking his head at Felina, whose eyes were already lingering on the bow.

Arthur nodded. "She took Lancelot's sword?"

"Would the other knights have only taken one? Think about it, one of Lancelot's swords is the perfect size for Felina."

Arthur looked at the very petite aspiring knight. Yeah, it was.

Felina barely waited until she could be sure the other knights were asleep before she made a dash for where Tristran had left the crossbow.

Hopefully he won't notice some of the bolts missing. Though even if he does, he'll just blame it on the same thief that took Lancelot's sword, Felina decided as she entered a clearing she had seen when they were on their way here.

Tristran saw her enter and smiled broadly.

She lit a small fire, just enough to see by, as she had done the night before, and sat down to try and load a bolt into the bow. Tristran watched with amusement as it took nearly twenty minutes for her to make the bolt click into place, and he could tell by her surprised expression, that she was unsure how she gotten it into place.

She aimed at the nearest tree and pulled the trigger. She wasn't prepared for the recoil and when her wrist jerked, the bolt zipped off into the trees, missing the target all together.

"Dammit," she cursed and reached for another bolt. She went to click it into place when she realized the wire had moved.

Tristran had left it set for her.

Oblivious to the crank on the side, she tried to force the wire back with dull end of the bolt.

She yelped, and Tristran jumped down from the tree, fearing she'd shot herself while trying to load the bow.

He stepped into the clearing to see her clutching her hand to her chest. "What'd you do?" he asked.

She started hearing his voice, but calmed when she recognized who it was.

He yanked his gloves off and knelt in front of her, gently taking her hand.

The bolt lay hardly three feet away, no trace of blood on it, he realized with relief. Slowly, he uncurled her fingers to reveal a slice across her palm.

"You idiot," he grunted, ripping a strip of cloth from his sleeve with his teeth. "Most people use the crank to pull the wire back." He wrapped the strip around her palm and sighed. "Arthur would have killed me if you'd've shot your hand with the crossbow I set out for bait."

"Bait?" she asked as he pulled the bandage tight.

"Yep, wanted to see if you'd take my bow like you did Lancelot's sword."

"Oh."

Tristran sat back. "You ready to go back to camp?"

She snorted indignantly. "No, I still don't know how to use that." She pointed at the crossbow.

She'd just ripped her palm open with the thing and now she was asking him how to use it, not even fazed by her injury. She might just live through her service yet. "You really want to learn?"

"At some point, I would prefer Lancelot's sword, but the crossbow will do for now."

"Well first…" he began, tossing her his gloves, "You use the crank to pull the wire back."

_End flashback…_

"I didn't do anything that time, Gawain!"

"No, Lancelot still doesn't know it was you who took his sword."

"Pssh, yes he does."

"Well, think of it this way. You helped Bors get more money off him."

"What!"

Gawain realized he hadn't been supposed to tell her that. "Bors had a running bet with Lancelot that he wouldn't be the first to sleep with you, Lancelot bet he would be." He paused. "For each one of us you slept with before Lancelot, he owed Bors money.

"Poor guy, was last, too, because you never went for Arthur or Dag…"

He was cut off when Felina whacked him in the head. "Poor guy! The assholes were betting on whether or not I was a slut!"

"Well you are love," he told her affectionately and kissed her nose.

She snorted.

"Look at it this way, love, you can beat the crap out of Bors and Lancelot all by yourself when that rib is better."

* * *

please review!  
Yet again (because I feel like I'm saying this a lot) this story had a planned sequel, however, due to school work and lack of time. If I get enough love for this fic, I'll write the seque if requested. 

muahz  
Der Traumer


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